


two second funeral

by tigerbox



Category: Monsta X (Band)
Genre: Character Death, Dark Comedy, Gen, M/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-02
Updated: 2020-05-02
Packaged: 2021-03-02 04:22:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,280
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23959141
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tigerbox/pseuds/tigerbox
Summary: hyungwon throws a funeral for wonho who is very much alive. minhyuk tries to help him get over it.
Relationships: Chae Hyungwon/Lee Hoseok | Wonho, Chae Hyungwon/Lee Minhyuk
Comments: 4
Kudos: 21





	two second funeral

Well, the toy store doesn’t actually sell miniature sized caskets, go figure, something about fetishizing death for children unhealthy, okay, so he’s using a limited edition Yeezy shoebox instead. Sure, sure, sure, the box itself could be sold for money on ebay, but hey if the shoe fits - he’s filling the shoebox with old polaroids he’s stuck in his closet over the years, always meant to reorganize and make a photobook, but honestly he’s never been the true sentimental type to sit there and just do it, you know:

_Just do something._

Except for now. Change of heart, he finds some black and white pictures of them at dance practice, seven oversized baggy sweats, bucket hats, another picture where their faces are flushed from pouring their hearts into dance, cheeks a tickly pink, rosy like a creamy sunset. Yeah, yeah, yeah, from a third party perspective, the bags under their eyes are worn thin, three set creases at the very least, when’s the last time any of them got more than 2 hours of sleep if they were lucky, _dancing is life_!!!; that’s the trainee grind.

Hyungwon’s stomach starts to growl.

He ignores it, looks around the room, he can’t just put freaking polaroids in a memorium, so he tosses a couple of won in there, wealth to take for the higher living, a stuffed bunny keychain from a fan, sorry **MONBEBE** , but it’s going to a good place, an album from their third mini, not because it was his favorite, but because it’s the only album he can find in his storage - side note: he keeps most of his goods at his parents’ house, and he felt sorta bad bothering his mom about this, oh, hey irony, a photocard sticks out of the album book - it’s him, dimpled smile, pristine, dentist sponsored teeth - so he sticks the photocard in too.

W-O-N-H-O. 

It’s freezing on the terrace, and he feels a little guilty because the complex is technically not his, or their property, and if there’s any cameras on him, he’s going to get criticized as _fuuuuccck_ , but hey it’s 20 degrees out, his charcoal sweater of choice is bare thin, and he just needs to do this.

“What the fuck are you doing?”

A voice beckons behind him, and oh, great, of all people it’s gotta be Minhyuk with his smarmy grin, only half serious. He’s got an unlit cigarette hiding between his fingers, didn’t he quit? Guess someone else’s got a terrace secret too - and he approaches Hyungwon all too quick, fingers wrapping around his bony shoulder taking a peek at the shoebox in his hand before he can hide it.

“No, what the fuck are you actually doing?”

There’s not a way to explain this, at least not on this parallel linear of earth, so Hyungwon looks around the terrace - it’s a small 5 x 10 variation of grass to choose from, and Minhhyuk’s given up on a verbal response from him, opening up the shoebox, thumbing around the assortments of belongings Hyungwon has shoved in it, ooh some Dove chocolates, and one goes in his mouth, specks of brown flickering in the light between his teeth, and Hyungwon sighs, he’s too cold for this now:  
  
“I’m burying Wonho.”

Okay, this is an actual physical representation of the pain that Hyungwon is feeling inflicted on his personal life, any well paid therapist could diagnose that, a burial for a living person who still 100% exists,

And just isn’t a part of this part of his life anymore, so what, not THAT big of a deal, except that Hyungwon clearly hasn’t really dealt with this type of pain before:

“It wasn’t supposed to be like this.”

Oh, honey. Most things never are.

Minhyuk takes him by the shoulder, somehow, they are back inside the dorm, and there’s a cup of hot chocolate in his hand. It feels too nice to actually drink it, so Hyungwon just holds it in one hand, shoebox in the other.

“Two things,”

Minhyuk muses, best acting face on, because really, no one else is watching, but the theatrics of putting on a show whenever he talks can’t be turned off, like ever,

“Number one - it’s 2 A.M A proper burial should be done in the morning, no?”

Hyungwon shrugs. Probably.

“Number two. You know he’s alive right? Just because he’s not part of Monsta X anymore doesn’t exactly mean he died, like we all literally saw him last week when he told us he’s going to re-debut as a solo artist and -”

Minhyuk stops talking, eyeing Hyungwon as he sips his chocolate. Hyungwon’s eyes are drooping, and he’s fully paying attention, but he just wants to pretend he’s not. Minyhuk gets the hint at least, he’s good at that, circling back to the number one,

It’s 2 A.M.

Okay, now it’s 10 A.M. Much better, and they’ve excused themselves from dance practice today; claiming they are too sad. Manager hyungnims scoff, but allow it, because Minhyuk’s cooked them 2 boiled eggs each for breakfast, but also because after a trainwreck shitfest of a year and Jooheon coming back god knows when, if two out of five wanna slack off for one morning, and there’s less of a chance of them getting retroactively sued, then so be it.

Yes, 10 A.M, and they are both wearing suits, plaid ties stiff on their neck, think they wore these crisp black suits and white shirts ensemble for a concert monologue taping, and Minhyuk manages to sneak some alcohol into his backpack from the kitchen, yes the boiled eggs were a ruse, _clever boy_ , they’re sipping the gin and juice from a flask, standing in the company’s backyard instead which admittedly feels like a better setting for this and something more permanent to look back on - 

“You know, we can make this wholesome by saying it’s a time capsule instead,” 

Minhyuk offers, but quickly cancels it, because Hyungwon is pouting, the sunlight is hitting him smack in his eyes and it hurts, and hey, wasn’t this whole thing his idea? Like if Minhyuk is going to invite himself to the party, the least he could do is just let it be, so Hyungwon takes out his plastic pail and shovel and starts to dig a small hole, and this would probably be a lot faster with a real shovel, but does any 2 A.M. idea have that much merit to it -

It’s 11:30 and with Minhyuk’s help they’ve got a shallow grave ready now, and Hyungwon’s opened the shoebox, stuck on the photocard of Wonho. He’s got such a great smile, one that could save the world. If only things were different, or rather - _if only things could have been the same forever._

“Any last words?” Minhyuk’s put his hand over Hyungwon’s taller shoulder again, like last night, and there’s a small comfort to it, and if anyone saw them from behind they’d think the two of them were shooting a music video or something, not doing this, whatever this was,

“Not really,” fuck it because Hyungwon has always been bad with words, but if there was a time to get over this, now was it, but honestly, no words could come into mind, he’s drawing a blank but let’s be real,

If _you_ were in this situation, burying a living friend, what would **YOU** say? Exactly.

There’s not even that much dirt to cover the shallow grave, and the shoebox sort of sticks out like a sore thumb on the smooth lawn, but if the gardener came on Saturday they’d smooth it all over after a nice mow so who cares. They start to walk away, but then Hyungwon pauses, looking in his pockets for something, then reaching over to look in Minhyuk’s,

“What the fuck?”

“We need a knife.”

“Okay...I got a ballpoint pen?” Minhyuk pulls out the ballpoint pen from his lapel ( _black_ ), and Hyungwon reaches down, stabbing into the patchy grass - again, sticking out like a sore thumb in the exceptionally nice landscaping.

“That’s a symbolistation of his death. Of our blackened dying hearts.” Hyungwon’s never been a poet either.

_Better at DJ-ing._

“Okay, cool. Let’s get some soju in our stomachs like a real memorial,” Minhyuk has some good ideas. 

Sometimes.

And no one’s back from practice yet, and they ate too much at the brisket shoppe and Minhyuk has the television on too loud, loss of hearing another side effect of always having ear pieces attached to ear - that, or airpods the last few years. Hyungwon’s slouching on the stomach, belly up and he’s tossed his tie to the side, tapping the side of his empty soju bottle to hear the empty whistling glass sound, but it only nods himself off to sleep for a few minutes, and his eyes widen, and he takes a deep, dramatic sigh.

“Minhyuk. I’m really sad.”

“I know.”

“We should have been seven forever.”

“I know.”

“Nothing’s ever going to be the same.”

“I know. But he’s still alive.”

“I know.”

Suddenly the television's off, and Minhyuk’s on Hyungwon’s side of the room, and Hyungwon can’t tell if Minhyuk’s drunk more than him, but he’s ripping Hyungwon’s baby blue giraffe socks and tossing them to the other side which Kihyun won’t be happy about, and he’s spreading Hyungwon’s legs and resting his head on one of his knees, right or left, he’s not sure,

“Look, do you really want to get your mind off this?”

Hyungwon nods without hesitation - it’s all he’s been thinking about since the 31st of October of 2019, and Minhyuk stealthily undoes his belt and slinks his pants down to his ankles and Hyungwon giggles, because how silly would it have been for him to only be wearing his boxers and socks in the living room, thank god those giraffes were banished two seconds ago, 

“This is the first time i’m doing this,”

Minhyuk snickers in delight or shyness, and in all honesty, Hyungwon’s so unsure of the truth. But does it matter? Minhyuk’s on his knees perched in front of him, looking like he’s about to make a prayer, angelic nose bent down with such dignity, seriousness, and then he spreads his mouth open wide, like a hoover, taking Hyungwon’s limp dick in, suddenly not all that limp anymore, soju’s god’s gift to everyone. He doesn’t really understand what’s going on, who would, and he squirms in his seat, not because Minhyuk’s bad at this, but because Minyhuk had turned off the television and now he can see his reflection through the screen from the other side of the coffee table and Minhyuk’s ass looks extra perky in those funeral pants and Hyungwon’s legs are spread so wide, and it’s sort of unsettling to see what it looks like to see yourself getting a blowjob from a friend, and he tries to focus on the pleasure but the reflection of them is getting him turned on more and he can feel himself getting embarrassingly hard, and there’s a probability Minhyuk’s never going to let this go, and he can’t help it but Hyungwon lets out the tiniest groan and then slouches back into the couch, he’s always had bad posture, anytime, anyplace, and he’s made an indent on this side of the couch the past few weeks - this used to be Wonho’s favorite spot to sit.

He can’t watch himself in the reflection anymore so he places his arms back behind his head, eyes closed, savoring this. He knows his ears have turned pink because Minhyuk looked really hot a second prior from when he glanced down, blowing him, cheeks puffing in and out, slobber getting everywhere, no regard for keeping the spit to a minimum, and now with his eyes closed he can hear Minhyuk chuckle a little because he’s accidentally grazed his teeth around Hyungwon’s dick in too much excitement, and while Hyungwon’s loving the sensation of being sucked like a summertime popsicle, he doesn’t want to be eaten up the same way exactly.

“Don’t come yet,” Minhyuk’s mumbling instructions mouth fully engorged with a dick, and Hyungwon’s thrusting up, he can’t help it, and he takes his hands and covers his eyes with them afraid he’s going to take another peek and become undone. He’d gotten plenty of blowjobs before, but not like this. A sympathy blow job. Not bad, he surmises - oh yeah, sympathy, that’s why this was happening. Maybe he didn’t drink enough soju at the bar or in the taxi ride home, or with the three empty bottles littering the living room, definitely not enough because his eyes start welling up, and he dampens them with the back of his palms - he missed Wonho. 

He missed how he’d always ask him if he wanted to go with him to the gym before the sun even rose, knowing the answer from Hyungwon would always be a flat no. He missed how he’d offer him a protein shake in the dressing room instead of a Starbucks passionfruit tea and how he’d always try to scare him at night from around the sofa when he’d been catching up on a korean drama he’d fallen weeks behind on. 

Memory lane - 

Because more than anything he missed his best friend and all these memories swarm, his tears start becoming more visceral and his back starts turning inward, warmness pooling from below - Minhyuk’s shoving his mouth up and down his shaft more rapidly, then moving off him completely with a sickening pop. Hyungwon can’t help but look down, one last time. Minhyuk sits innocently between his legs absolutely still, hands perched softly on both knees, one string of saliva decked on the corner of his lips. Hyungwon’s dick stands idly between them, fully and undoubtedly erect - an absolute throbbing flush of crimson itself. It vibrates on its own, begging one of them to finish it off, come on the cusp of spilling. Then Minhyuk bends down enveloping Hyungwon’s dick in a position where it cannot escape, with a simple, 

“You can come now,” and then there’s those sweet lips around him again, pulsating like a rhythmless song, mouth going full throttle and Hyungwon starts tearing up again, imagining the ghost of Wonho watching behind them, next to the television, laughing at the sight, giving instructions to Minhyuk, like he’d always known more than them about anything, everything,

“ _If you’re gonna give the man a blowjob, you better suck him right and take him alllllllllll in,_ ” sounds like something he’d say, and Minhyuk does it, takes him all in as far as the back of his throat can extend and _fuckkkkkkk_ Hyungwon puts his arms behind his head again, but it’s too late and Hyungwon’s tearing up from the edges of his eyes again, but this time for entirely different reasons, and he comes way too fast, squirting down the whole of Minhyuk’s neck and dripping from his nose. Hyungwon looks down, giraffe-less bare feet, absolutely shaking from the ride, belatedly offering the tie he had torn off earlier to Minhyuk, wiping at his nose.

“Sorry.”

Minhyuk, awfully good at words, a good friend to Hyungwon, if not just as good as Wonho, is at a complete loss of words as they make it down to the terrace later, discarding all the soju and wine bottles before Kiyhun gets back home and yells. Please, god, why does he always have to yell - 

Well, they also cleaned all the come off the coffee table and sofa and wherever else globs of it had gotten - Hyungwon can see a speck of it smudged above Minhyuk’s ear - how very ‘Something About Mary’ - but he’s not going to tell him - Minyhuk’s gonna shower later anyway - hopefully, so clean home equals happy Kihyun and,

Minhyuk’s reaching over with his dirty garbage hands and putting something in Hyungwon’s pocket, no, not the ballpoint pen, something sharper, with angles, oh, hey it’s the photocard of Wonho where his dimples are blindingly bright.

“I snuck back and grabbed it out of the shoebox when you weren’t looking. You should keep it. It’s therapeutic.”

“Aw.” Hyungwon says, thumbing a finger over it - one of the corners had bent, and a smudge of dirt makes Wonho’s bicep in the picture look extra smoldering, and he’d have preferred it if the picture had stayed buried in the box, because symbolism, and because he’s pretty sure he can get the same photocard in one of the albums he had at his parent’s place, (a cleaner version) but,

“Keep it close to your heart and use it when you’re feeling sad, okay? Cuz you know, I can’t keep giving you blowjobs whenever you’re mourning. It was kind of like a one time deal thing.” Minhyuk is patting him on the shoulder, in a bettling gesture, and all Hyungwon can think is that Minhyuk just put the garbage in the dirty garbage canister but what the fuck ever, he’s gonna wash this suit anyway, and then Minhyuk’s phone is ringing and he’s turning his lips up in a twisted funny manner. 

Strange.

He answers it, then looks Hyungwon square in the eye, unsure how to respond. Then after a beat, puts it on speaker, a familiar voice echoing off the quiet terrace.

“Hey,”

“Hey,”

“Hey.”

“What are you guys up to?”

“Not much - “ Minhyuk’s lips are still twisted - there was no doubt the blowjob was gonna get announced as a funny party anecdote the next time they all got drunk, and Hyungwon’s stomach was doing somersaults but he’s not sure if it’s from the phonecall or whatever happened thirty minutes ago, and there’s hesitation from the voice on the other end, but,

“Do you guys wanna grab something to eat? I’m starving.”

Minhyuk shrugs, takes a look at Hyungwon. Didn’t they just eat? It’s all Hyungwon’s choice from here. He’s shoved the picture in his pocket, fingering it between his index and thumb like a simple touch could retract all the memories attached.

“Okay.” Hyungwon says.

Because, okay.

There’s relief on the other end of the phone, a big sigh, and Minhyuk’s grinning from ear to ear, leaving Hyungwon no choice but to follow as he skirts up the lobby, pushing the elevator to their level with glee, because there’s no way they are wearing Wonho’s funeral suits out to actually meet him.

“Awesome,” Wonho says, and the three of them fumble for a bit before picking a chicken place close to the dormitory that Wonho says he hasn’t had it in forever, and truthfully, Hyungwon’s sick of it, but really who cares.

“See you in three minutes,” Minhyuk’s saying, and Hyungwon’s looking around his room for something to wear, anything better than this, and there’s a bunch of polaroids of all of them, and of Wonho mostly littered around his floor, but he’d clean it up later.

“Okay, cool,” Wonho’s voice is crisp, sanctimonious, loud, clear, perfect on speakerphone from the other room, before Minhyuk hangs up, “because honestly guys - “

And this is what Hyungwon needs to hear more than anything,

“Honestly guys, I’m lonely as fuck.”

Okay, yes they end up not changing, always rushing, wearing the same suits looking like they came fresh off a schedule when they cross the street, eager beavers, but whatever, Wonho’s going to believe it. Oh there it is - that smile, those wide friendly arms, the dimples, the dimples. _Him_! They go for a three way hug and - 

“Oh hey, Minhyuk, you got a little something in your hair? Here, let me get that for you, ew it’s kind of sticky…”  
  


So this is what it’s like to be happy.

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> \- lauv: ****, i'm lonely  
> \- wrote this time analogy very spontaneously and fast  
> \- bc i'm emo (rip ot7)  
> \- it's ramadan so oop @ me


End file.
